Chocolate and Tea
by Nyeren
Summary: ' Meant to spend Christmas alone, actually.' On Boxing Day, Remus Lupin pays Nymphadora Tonks a visit. But neither of them has changed for the better.


_Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the world and characters, and were I she, Book 6 would have contained much more Remus and Tonks and much less Dumbledore torture. (The poor man!) The poor ragged plotbunny is mine, and that is all. No copyright infringement is intended._

_A/N: I adore Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks, as well as experimenting with various situations and styles, so here is a take on one of the more unfortunate parts of their relationship. For some absurd and inexplicable reason, the song "Mexican Wine" (quoted below) seems to me rather like their theme song. No idea why. _

_Chocolate and Tea_

_But the sun still shines in the summertime,  
I'll be yours if you'll be mine,  
I tried to change, but I changed my mind –  
Think I'll have another glass of Mexican wine..  
--Fountains of Wayne_

Remus Lupin was really not sure why he was doing this.

There was Molly, of course, and her very pointed hints, glares, and frank views. And there was Arthur, who didn't say a word about it but obviously knew and agreed with his wife. And Harry, indignantly saying how he really wasn't different, that it wasn't _him_...

Remus knew perfectly well that it would just make things worse, and probably hurt them both more. But he'd missed her.

Remus Lupin was not sure at all.

-&-

It was Boxing Day, and Nymphadora Tonks was contemplating the slushy gray snow on the street beneath the window of her flat. It had already been plowed through by quite a lot of cars, and was looking decidedly tired, though just yesterday it had been bright, white, and lovely. She was tired, too.

Nymphadora Tonks could sympathize.

She drew her knees up to her chest and bent her head, closing her eyes, and had just begun to recite the overused list of reasons why she ought to cheer up when the doorbell rang. Not feeling anywhere near energetic enough to get up and answer it, she lifted her head and called "Come in!" loudly.

The door opened, and a thin man wearing a worn, patched coat stepped inside.

Nymphadora Tonks carefully arranged her features. "Wotcher, Remus," she said without expression. "Happy Christmas."

He looked at her sadly. "Happy Christmas."

It was quiet for several moments, and then he said, "They missed you at the Burrow."

"Did they."

"Yes."

"Oh."

Several moments of silence stretched on. Finally Remus said, "I'm sorry I haven't been able to write."

Nymphadora Tonks glanced up in surprise for a moment, then just looked sad. "It's all right. Sit down, Remus - can't have you lurking by the cloak rack forever. Would you like some cocoa?" The words were not exceptional, but she did not even attempt to sound like her perky, usual, brightly colored self.

Remus looked at her, and felt something settle quite painfully within him. "Thank you." He hung his coat on the rack, seated himself on her small, battered sofa.

"Not a problem." She rose, and disappeared into her tiny kitchen. When she had been gone for perhaps a minute, Remus realized that he was tensed, waiting for crashing and a string of creative expressions of annoyance. But it was quiet; only a few clinks and the sound of cupboard doors being opened and shut were to be heard.

Much too quiet.

She came out quite soon, carrying two steaming mugs. She handed one to Remus, then sat down on the window seat again. "Cheers."

He nodded, and took a sip. He was startled; when Nymphadora Tonks made cocoa, one would expect it to be much too sweet or much too bitter. This was merely weak; quite drinkable, but weak all the same.

Nymphadora Tonks was staring absently at the steam that rose from the surface of her cocoa, drifting up a few inches before dissipating. "You look like you've been through hell, Remus," she said suddenly.

He jumped, startled, and spilled a bit of his drink on the rug. Nymphadora shook her head before he could make to clean it up. "Leave it. There's a reason I have a brown rug."

"Ah."

"And really, you do."

"Thank you, Nymphadora," he replied tersely. "I wasn't aware at all."

"Sorry."

Quiet once more. Nymphadora Tonks finished her cocoa and tried to figure out just what one ought to say to the ragged man you loved who had quite gently, firmly told you to get over him, and was now seated on your sofa, gaunt and exhausted.

"It _has_ been hell," he broke out, quite suddenly. Nymphadora Tonks jumped this time, then pushed her brown hair out of her eyes, and collected herself. It was no good trying to avoid all her questions, because he already knew the most important fact. It made her much more honest, being out in the open as it was.

"Remus, why are you here?"

He didn't know what he'd expected her to say, but it certainly wasn't that. "I'm not sure."

"Why are you telling me, Remus?" Nymphadora stood up abruptly and paced. "You know ruddy well that you won't let me help. And Merlin, Remus, how I want to."

Remus Lupin got to his feet. "Dora, I – "

"Care about you," she interrupted. "Want you to forget about me and go find some nice young man to be happy with." She blinked hard and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Oh, dammit. Now I'm really not helping."

Quite utterly unsure of what to do, Remus just stood still. "I'm sorry."

"Don't." She took a deep breath, shaking her head. "Please just tell me why you're here."

"Your color's gone." Remus Lupin struggled with himself, and then reached out and touched her cheek.

"That's not an answer." She turned away and slumped down on the sofa, face in her hands, and cursed softly. "I don't know what to do."

Remus sat down next to her. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"Stop that."

"I missed you."

Nymphadora Tonks began to cry, and Remus Lupin was in a quandary.

People cried around him more than most people. They came and told him what was on their minds, and he'd listen and give them advice and sympathy and tea and chocolate, and do his level best to sort it all out, or at the very least get them moving on it themselves. But he'd never dealt with a young woman whose brightness had dulled because of him, and who was shaking with very quiet tears. And he's come to her, not the other way around. She was crying because of him, not to him, and that was not something that had happened since he was small and his parents held him tight and told him that they would always love him and he was really just the same and they would do their best to make the rest of his life be like that too, and wept because they all hurt so.

Just the same. Nearly.

Chocolate and tea and advice were not anywhere near enough. But he couldn't really do anything more.

And it _hurt_ just the same.

So telling himself that it was the best thing to do, Remus took hold of her hand and held it until she had managed to control her tears, and then handed her his worn handkerchief.

She wiped her eyes and blew her nose, then cleaned the cloth with a subdued, absentminded spell, and gave it back. "Thank you."

He folded it and put it back in his pocket, as the irony of trying to comfort someone you didn't want to hurt but had to hit him very hard.

"I think I had best go," he said.

"Perhaps. But – " she paused, seeming to struggle for words. "I know I've not helped at all just now, but if you ever want to tell me...why it's been hell...I would like to listen."

"All right." Remus stood, and went to fetch his coat. Nymphadora stayed by the window, watching him, a resigned ache quite visible on her face. He went back to her; for some reason he did not want to say goodbye at the door.

They looked at one another for a moment, not quite sure what to do, and then Nymphadora hugged him, holding onto him for a very short time before letting go. "Good luck. I still love you, you know."

"I know," said Remus Lupin, and gave her an abrupt kiss on the forehead. "Please try to stop."

And then he left, blinking ineffectually as the cold wind hit him and brought tears to his eyes.

Nymphadora Tonks sat by the window again, holding her mug of cold cocoa and glancing occasionally at the new stain on the carpet. Outside, the slush had frozen over again as the sun set, and when the moonlight hit it instead of gray it was silver and hard. But tomorrow it would all melt again.

Oh, Nymphadora Tonks could sympathize.

She stood and pulled the drapes.

_Fin_

_Reviews are very happy things._


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